


In A Garden Of Bones, I Found A Sleeping God

by Greyscale



Category: EXO (Band), K-pop, NCT (Band), SuperM (Korea Band), WayV (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternative Universe - Kingdom, Darkness, Demon Powers, Elemental Magic, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, F/M, Fictional Religion & Theology, Friends to Lovers, Human Sacrifice, M/M, Mythology - Freeform, Mythology References, Old Gods, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Alternating, Religious Cults, Religious Fanaticism, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Soul Bond, Trickster Gods, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:07:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23256667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Greyscale/pseuds/Greyscale
Summary: The problem with worshiping old gods is that they are in desperate need of champions.And the pickings areslim.---He watched Donghyuck with those ancient eyes of his. Cold, chilling silver in the warm amber of the flickering candlelight.And what the god did next was almost sinful. No, itwassinful.That pink tongue of his slipped out past thin chapped lips and licked the little ambrosia that was running down his index finger. From his knuckle to his fingertip, his tongue chased the golden droplet, and his eyes never left Donghyuck. It was obscene. It was like watching lovers caught in passion.Donghyuck looked away quickly, his cheeks flushing pink."You should consider yourself very lucky it's me you woke up." The god chuckled as he smacked his lips. "If you had woke up a different god, well... they probably would have devoured you whole.""Perhaps that would have been better," Donghyuck sneered.
Relationships: Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten/Qian Kun, Jung Yoonoh | Jaehyun/Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung, Kim Jungwoo/Wong Yuk Hei | Lucas, Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee
Comments: 17
Kudos: 63





	1. To Wake A Sleeping God

There are always signs when a god is waking. It starts slowly, a child's voice singing a nursery rhyme from the depths of an old well or a blood moon, on a quiet night high above a broken stone altar in a long-abandoned temple, far outside of its cycle. Sometimes when a god is waking, the earth cracks open, land pulling apart like torn skin or maybe the horrifying maw of a lion, revealing a dark abyss, its mouth twisted and crumbling at the edges. _Hungry, hungry, hungry_. And so, the earth feasts, swallowing an entire city and its people in one night, gone as though it had never existed in the first place.

When a god is sleeping, buried beneath the earth, they are, perhaps, more trouble than when they are awake. They _whisper_. Slipping silently into the dreams of a child, showing her the horrors of a world beyond her understanding. And the child screams and screams and screams and then? And then, with wide white eyes, those whispers make her _walk_. They make her walk into a forest at night, where dark beasts roam, and when she comes back at dawn, she is not the same. Her hair is white like she aged a lifetime in only a night, and she sings softly, hauntingly to anyone who will hear, of the god sealed beneath the earth. 

There are always signs when a god is waking. They cry out, pushing their desperation into the souls of mortals who cannot bear the weight of such vast beings. Their restlessness shows itself in the birds which fly out of season, dogs barking and howling at nothing-- or perhaps something in the night. Their rage comes down like lightening on the earth, scorching everything it touches, thundering blues and roaring reds, bright flashing yellows, and regal purples. Oh, how they want to be _heard_. 

And when they wake? Oh, when a god wakes, the world shifts. The soft prayers of a mortal, each syllable passing through wet lips curving in adoration, reach into the earth, clawing away at the dirt and grime, reaching into the pits of darkness and summoning. There, there in the depths, the god awakes. With one hand, then the other, they come out, pulling and tugging away the fabric of the earth, slitting mountains and drying rivers until they reach above. The universe tips and twirls, and the sky, it _shatters_ as the god takes their first holy breath in a millennium. Bright pieces of the sky fall like rain upon the earth, flickering, hissing, and streaking down in beautiful hues. The universe sings, welcoming its child, crooking its fingers, beckoning.

Waking gods, they never forget who woke them. They place their mark upon the mortal who prayed to them, to be their champion. The world does not know this god, nor does this god know this world. And they will stumble through it like a babe on new legs, clutching their mortal champion's hand, all semblance of holiness lost in the years underneath human feet. 

_Hold me, hold me, hold me_. The god will say at night, like a child afraid of the dark. The truth is that they want nothing more than to be worshiped, but for now, being held close in mortal arms is enough.

That is the problem with waking gods, they are old, and they need worship, they have been _starved_ of it. Their lips are parched with no offerings of sweet mulled ambrosia. They no longer dress in gold because their temples were stripped of it. Once ethereal beauty is reduced to something dull, something lesser, the only sign of their power is in their eyes. The cosmos rests there. Nebulae residue clings to their irises that tell of the ancient power they hold. And yet, in their most base form, they still steal the breath of life away. 

There is _holiness_ in the way they kiss a child's head, blessing them with gifts beyond the understanding of man. There is _tenderness_ in the way they run their hands over the ruins of their old temples and remember the days when there were celebrations in their name. It is in how they visit the graves of ancient mortal oracles, priests, priestesses, and lovers moreover in the way they kiss the crumbling headstones. And there is _power_. There is power in the way they do not flinch, standing outside in the middle of the harshest of thunderstorms. There is power in how the lightening avoids them as it strikes, and that proves it all. They are a god, no matter how dull the ichor running in their veins is. 

But child, always remember, always remember when you pray to those old gods, that the problem with worshiping old gods is that they are in desperate need of champions.

And the pickings are _slim_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I am Greyscale! (o^▽^o)/
> 
> For those of you reading my work for the first time, this story is my first-ish NCT centered fic. For those of you here after the mess I made of Sol Regis, thank you and I hope you can forgive my nonsense. (シ_ _)シ
> 
> Basically, I have meshed the EXO superpowers universe with some ancient mythology: Egyptian and Greek because my mind is haywire. I'll be borrowing from these mythologies, but not always. I want to create some of my own myths, gods and goddesses etc. and some of my own crazy ideas. This really started out as a midnight thought, to be honest... I hope you find it as entertaining as I do, I guess? ╮(￣ω￣;)╭
> 
> There is a method to my madness. I promise. (･ω<)☆
> 
> I'm currently still working on formatting since I'm hoping this will be another one of my long term fics, so please bear with me. I really appreciate comments, so don't hold back! I understand being shy about commenting on Ao3 and if you're one of those people (I know that I am too), feel free to DM me on Twitter or Instagram! I love chatting about possible new AUs, formatting for fics, or even just basic how-was-your-day type stuff.
> 
> About the relationship tags... I will put some up, but don't get too shocked if they change (they probably won't tho). I'm still trying to learn more about NCT and how to format them into good characters for this AU.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this new fic! This is purely out of my imagination... hopefully the meandering of my mind is enjoyable to you.  
> As for updates, it entirely depends on whether or not this fic is likable. Please let me know in the comments if you like this fic and if you would like for it to continue! I really appreciate the comments and feedback is perfectly fine! Let me know if I've made any mistakes because I tend to miss my mistakes a lot. (Plz talk to me. I'm lonely. ( ╥ω╥ ))
> 
> My social media is [@grreyscale_](https://www.instagram.com/grreyscale_/) on Instagram and [@grreyscale](https://twitter.com/grreyscale) on Twitter (the difference is all in the underscore. (･ω<)☆).
> 
> Thank you so much for reading IGBIFSG! (I shortened the acronym but it's still too long, I might change the title to make it shorter, or maybe I'll leave it like this)
> 
> See you next time! ヾ(*'▽'*)


	2. The Sky Is Empty and All The Gods Lie Beneath Our Feet

_"How much should I give a god?"_

_"Everything. Give them your mouth so they may speak,  
your legs so they may walk.  
Give them your ear so you can hear them,  
your eyes so you may see them.  
Give them your teeth, tongue, knucklebones,  
and knee joints.  
Bathe them in the blood of sacrifice and honor.  
Keep them warm with your flesh and song." _

_"And should I love them as well?"_

_"That is for you to decide. But my love,  
the gods are greedy, greedier than you are for their favor."_

_"If I love them, will they love me?"_

_"Those who love, and are loved by the gods die young."_

-  
\--- - ---  
-

The first sign was the blood moon.

It sat high in the night sky, a beautiful crimson queen attended by her court of silver stars. Not a single wolf howled in the night. Perhaps this odd moon scared them. Only the idle chatter of crickets filled the air. And there were whispers. Whispers that sounded like the wind, or the snapping of a twig, or water flowing through a creek.

A girl, but not a girl, walked barefoot down an empty dirt road, her red dress dancing in the steady breeze. She was covered in dirt, clumps clung to her hair and skin. Some of her fingernails had ripped off, and gold blood, ichor dripped from her ruined fingers.

She walked until she found it.

It was no longer the place she remembered. What had once been a beautiful temple, was now a grave. There was a time when it had been filled with acolytes and priestesses. People had come to see her with smiles on their faces, offerings, and prayers. She would not forget their love, just as she would not forget their betrayal. She would not forget the day mankind had pulled the gods from the sky.

Stone columns leaned on one another, in a miserable parody of comfort. The steps were covered in overgrown grass and thorns pricked her feet as she walked, but the girl did not feel the pain. She had made empires fall, after all, and walked on the ruins of men who thought they could defy her. This, a mere thorn in her foot, was nothing.

In the middle of the temple, there was a broken altar. There was a time when it was polished, the once white marble was now grey with dust. Large black vines had grown in the middle of the altar, covering the marble surface like a spider's web. The red moon sat just above, looking down at the girl through the holes in the roof. It was what had called her here. It was beginning, that was why she had woken up. The first of them had been born, and the rest would soon follow. And so the girl left the temple and in her wake, the temple was the first feast of the earth. This was the second sign.

The earth opened its mouth so wide, it bared large jagged teeth to the empty sky above. It sang with the screams of animals and people, it laughed in the crackling fire of a falling city and spoke through every loud fracture across its surface.

_Oh, my beloved sky, how lonely you are.  
Cast out were the gods and down to the earth, did they come.  
Shall I return them to you?  
Oh, but my beloved sky, the mortals, the mortals!  
With their fleeting lives and hungry eyes did they leave you childless.  
They took your gods and buried them in my bones.  
Shall I punish them for you? Shall I devour them for you, my sweet sky?_

The sky did not answer, but not long after, another sign, the third, appeared ten years later.

A boy, not older than six years, with snow-white hair, walked down from the mountains during a cruel blizzard, on the winter solstice, untouched by the cold. He walked into the city of Glasift. Glasift which had not seen a new god in decades. With him, he brought snow, which cleansed whatever it touched and he was named the new Celestial, Glasift's beloved god _returned_.

All who saw the child's face were struck by his beauty. Soft gentle eyes that only spoke of innocence, were framed by long lashes. His face was graced only by a rose scar, a mark of his holiness and humanity, a god made flesh. They robed him in silks and satin, placed gold slippers on his feet, so his sacred skin would never be blemished by the impurities and imperfections of the earth. They gave him a gold mask to hide his holy face and kept him behind tall walls and silver armored Paladins. All in his presence bowed, unable to see the iron whithered hands that were wrapped around his throat and chains that tied him to his throne, forever suffocating him and chaffing his skin.

-  
\--- - ---  
-

Donghyuck hated his visions.

He hated closing his eyes and _falling_.

Sometimes Donghyuck would fall from the sky. His screams would echo out into the empty air. And in some visions, when he was brave enough to look up instead of down, he would see many wide, unblinking eyes, in the sky watching him.

The only thing Donghyuck could feel in those visions was the sensation of falling endlessly. No matter how loudly he screamed, nothing changed. Sometimes, feathers would whirl around him as he tumbled down, down, down. And all Donghyuck would feel was sorrow, anger, betrayal, it would always be the same. Donghyuck would cry in these visions, and his tears were melted wax running down his face hot and burning in their wake.

In other visions, Donghyuck would fall into the ocean. Donghyuck would plunge into the sea like an angel cast out of highest heaven. And then there would be this all-consuming rage as the water swallowed his voice and filled his lungs, silencing Donghyuck's screams.

_Curse you, curse you, curse you!_

It wasn't his anger. Donghyuck knew that, but he didn't know who the rage belonged to, and he was afraid to find out. He knew how to swim. But here, wherever here was in his visions, Donghyuck did not know how to swim. No matter how hard he kicked, he sank lower and lower. The light from above faded, getting dimmer and dimmer as he kicked fruitlessly. Murky shapes would appear in the water before Donghyuck's eyes. People he had never seen before grabbed at him their cold hands and jagged nails digging into his skin. Others called his name, some simply watched. Hands wrapped around his wrists, some tugged at his shirt and legs. Donghyuck would always open his eyes before he could drown. He'd wake up with the taste of salt in his mouth and on his lips.

Other times, Donghyuck would have visions of being buried alive. He would feel the roots of trees digging into his skin and feeding on his blood instead of water. He would feel the dirt on his face, in his mouth, and lungs. His tongue would lie like a stone, unmoving as he cried out for help in his head. No one would hear him, but Donghyuck would hear everything. He would hear feet walking above and he would wonder in despair, why no one could free him. Then Donghyuck would wake, clutching his bed sheets tightly, with dirt under his fingernails.

There was one vision in particular that haunted Donghyuck. He always saw this one clearer than all the others, and it continuously repeated itself. It was of a girl on a dirt trail in mid-winter. She was pale, so pale that the thin red dress she was wearing looked like it had been dyed in crimson blood. Her ink-black hair fell over her shoulders, stopping at her waist, and resting on her head with a twinkling ruby crown.

The crown was a monstrosity. Gold twisted and intertwined around her head like vines. Some of the precious metal stuck out like the barren branches of trees in winter, like tall spires high above her head. It might as well have been a crown of thorns. Some of the rubies were large, while others were small. Each ruby looked like it had placed onto the crown in any which way.

Every time a soft wind blew, it felt like daggers were sinking into Donghyuck's skin. It was a bone-chilling kind of cold. Snow sat on tall evergreen trees, and frost patterns littered the ground and tree trunks in the forest. The red dress girl was barefoot, and yet this did not seem to bother her as she danced on the cold hardened earth. She spun and danced down the path, singing a high and sweet tune.

_"Come follow, follow, follow  
follow, follow, follow me._

_Whither shall I follow, follow, follow,  
whither shall I follow, follow thee._

_To the greenwood, to the greenwood,  
to the greenwood, greenwood tree."_

She stopped singing suddenly, as though she had just realized Donghyuck's presence. Her head turned sharply. She gazed at Donghyuck through her hair, eyes wide as she tipped her head to the side.

"And who might you be?" She whispered, a smile forming slowly on her cherry red lips.

Donghyuck took a step back as the girl approached him.

"Who are you?" Donghyuck shot back.

"Me?" The girl laughed.

"I am the Wanderer, the Road Keeper, and the Guide. This path is mine and mine alone. Not many walk it, but many seek it. So, now I wonder, how have mortal feet wandered onto my path?" 

"What path is this?"

"It is whatever path you would like it to be." The girl replied. "Tell me your name." 

"My name?"

This girl made Donghyuck's skin crawl. Something was wrong with her, something he did not know— something he was not sure he wished to know.

She was beautiful, like a porcelain doll in a toy shop. Her features were too smooth, without a single pore. There was no blemish on her skin, and she had no wrinkles when she smiled. There was a sharpness to her cheekbones, jaw, and chin like she was made of glass and marble. Her hair was also odd. It was too shiny, like the shell of a black beetle, and her eyes were empty and dark. Donghyuck felt like he was staring into an abyss.

"No."

Donghyuck had heard stories and whispers about odd creatures and people that asked for names. He had heard that names had a price and that names were powerful, and that they were the key to the soul. He had heard of people who had lost their names, had heard stories of how hollow their eyes looked after.

"No?" The girl parroted. "No, no, no, no, no?" 

She tipped her head from side to side with each "no," she said.

"Oh, sweet little boy," The girl snickered as she stepped closer to Donghyuck.

She placed her hands on his cheeks, and Donghyuck flinched. The girl's hands were like ice. She was as cold as the snow around them, and her hold on him was vice-like. Her brutal grip forced Donghyuck to look at her.

"Who do you think you are to deny a god?" 

"The gods are dead," Donghyuck whispered through clenched teeth.

This girl was cold, cold, cold. It seeped from her skin and into Donghyuck's, leeching and draining the little warmth he had.

"Are they now? Or have you convinced yourself that because your prayers have not been answered, that the gods are dead?" She laughed aloud, and her voice echoed through the trees. The girl stepped away from Donghyuck, her hands at her sides.

"You are an amusing one. You deny the very existence of the gods, and yet, they have marked you." 

"What are you talking about?" 

"Beware the ground you walk on, Donghyuck Lee." 

Donghyuck flinched at the sound of his name.

"Why did you ask for my name if you already knew it?" 

"You have so many questions, Donghyuck. In the end, you will have to ask yourself which questions are the ones you truly need answers to." 

"Then let me ask you this, if the gods are not dead, where are they?" 

The girl was no longer smiling, and Donghyuck watched in horror as she began to change.

Her skin became translucent, so much so that Donghyuck could see the bones beneath her skin. She lost her sharp beauty. Her lips became thin and cracked. She had black lines marking the places where her lips had split, and they ran down her chin. Her hair grew longer and longer until it had covered her feet. The thick hairs writhed like snakes, slithering towards Donghyuck, who was too terrified to move.

"Where are the gods, you ask?" The girl hissed. "Where are the gods?" 

Her eyes had become sunken and milky white, her red lips twisted into an ugly snarl. Her nails grew longer and turned as black as her hair. Then she grew taller, so tall that she towered over Donghyuck and all the snow-covered trees. She hunched forward sharply, her broad face looming over Donghyuck as she pointed at him with her long black nails.

"Cast down from the sky. That is where the gods are. Will you pray to us, Donghyuck? Will you?" 

Donghyuck flinched at the sound of his name.

"I do not know you."

"Beware the ground you walk on, Donghyuck Lee." 

"Why?"

"The gods lie beneath your feet."

-  
\--- - ---  
-

His hair needed a wash.

Donghyuck could tell, even without looking into the jagged, cracked, sorry excuse of a mirror that hung over his washbasin.

His hair was greasy. Thin strands of long black hair hung in clumps over his eyes and ears. Dragging a hand through it, Donghyuck tried to tame his bed head. He snatched an old strip of cloth, pulling his shoulder-length hair into a low bun. Whisps of hair still hung in his face, and Donghyuck huffed, jutting out his bottom lip to move the hairs aside.

Maybe if he got a visit from one of those prissy noble girls, he'd earn some good coin. And if he got some coin, he could get a decent haircut instead of trusting Jaemin with scissors.

Speaking of Jaemin, Donghyuck stood up, moving silently toward the other boy who lay fast asleep in the better bed under several thin blankets. Jaemin was fast asleep for what must have been the first time in a while. His lips were parted slightly with a small red mark on the corner of his mouth. Blood.

Donghyuck swallowed, eyes trained on the raised pink marks that littered Jaemin's neck and disappeared into the unbuttoned collar of his shirt. It had only been two weeks since Jaemin had come home with a small cough that had soon proven to be one of the few things Donghyuck feared.

The plague was called Peony's Kiss because the pink marks that showed on the skin of the victim looked much like a peony flower. Beautiful and deadly all the same. Peony's Kiss was running through Glasift like wildfire, and it wasn't odd to see the face of a neighbor in the gravedigger's cart.

Peony's Kiss started with a cough. Soon after, the blood would start, then hacking wet coughs that sounded like thunder. The marks would begin to show, an itchy rash on the skin. And Donghyuck knew Jaemin was doing his best to pretend nothing was wrong him.

Donghyuck remembered the first time he found out Jaemin was coughing blood. He had taken the clothes out to wash in a nearby stream when he saw Jaemin's favorite shirt, the sleeve at the wrist and elbow stained by dried blood.

It had lead to an ugly fight, their first fight in years. And just as quickly as it started, it ended. Jaemin had punched Donghyuck, furious with Donhyuck confronting him. Donghyuck had been ready to hit back until he had seen all the strength leave Jaemin's body, as his only friend collapsed into his arms, coughing blood. Jaemin had turned as white as a sheet, body shaking with shivers as he cried in Donghyuck's arms. Despite his weak state, Donghyuck had never forgotten the way Jaemin had grabbed onto him. Jaemin's fingers had twisted in Donghyuck's shirt, knuckles white and hands trembling, he yanked Donghyuck close crying into his chest.

_"I don't want to die."_

_"I won't let you, I promise."_

Jaemin had tried on several counts to get Donghyuck to leave him. No one knew how Peony's Kiss got from one person to another, and Jaemin was afraid Donghyuck would catch it from him. Donghyuck refused to leave, instead of sleeping in the same bed, he had gotten a cot.

Now Jaemin could barely move much. A simple walk from his bed to their table left him winded. But Donghyuck would keep his promise. Wetting a small cloth in the washbasin, Donghyuck tenderly wiped the sweat from Jaemin's forehead and the blood from his mouth, careful not to wake him. Once the younger was adequately tucked in, Donghyuck headed further into their room, to the small fireplace that had what little stew was leftover from the night before. Donghyuck set a fire, and let the stew warm as he got himself ready.

Once he had tugged on his coat, Donghyuck quietly slipped out the door, humming silently to himself, the very same tune he had heard in his vision.

_"Come follow, follow, follow,  
follow, follow, follow me."_

-  
\--- - ---  
-

The shadows were excited again.  


They tugged at him, inky black wrapping around his wrists and ankles. Some curled under his hands, purring with pleasure as he ran his hands over them.

His head was lighter than it had been in days. The guards had cut his hair with shears, probably tired of seeing the mess his hair had been. It had once been down to his shoulders in a neat braid, now it was just above his ears. Ten (that was the name he had given himself) had simply watched as his hair fell like crows' feathers at his feet, unfazed by the rough hands of the guards. Perhaps they had thought that chopping his hair would elicit some sort of reaction? Either way, Ten hadn't reacted and the guards had washed their hands like guilty murderers', muttering about touching a heretic.

He remembered the day the Paladins came for him in their white and silver armor. How they surrounded him and pointed their Blessed steel swords at his chest, calling him an abomination because he had no shadow. Ten was not human because he lacked a shadow, and for that, for that, he was condemned to death.

With a sigh, he traced the tattoo they had forced onto his skin. He had been held down while they did it. Forced to carry the bitter red rose on his arm. A mark of death to all who would see it. Perhaps it was fitting in some way, after all, it had taken three Paladin lives to imprison him.

The tattoo was still fresh and his skin ached in protest as he traced over the bold black lines of the stem and thorns, then finally over the red ink of the petals. The shadows slipped under his palm, tugging his fingers from his tender skin. The shadows did not like it when he was in pain, often attempting to shield him from it, but could they shield him from death? He did not know.

"Prisoner."

The Paladin that stared at him through the bars was too young, perhaps only twelve years old. His armor was a little too big for his narrow shoulders, and the straps looked ready to slip off his slim arms, even though they have been wrapped around him more than once. The silver of the armor was glaring, the thin streams of light from the window in Ten cell is crudely reflected back with blinding fury.

Ten smiled sharply at the Paladin, once he recognized his face. Three of the Paladin's comrades died at his hands and he knew that his smile was unsettling. There in the corner of his cell, his shadows swarmed around him, curling under his hands, petting his hair, rubbing against his leg. He knew how he looked to the Paladin, and he reveled in it. The paleness of the boy's face made Ten feel bold, the fear in his eyes spoke volumes.

With a simple flick of his wrist, he sent the shadows away, and the cell became a bit brighter. The shackles around his wrists rattled loudly, and Ten thought it went quite well with the sound of bells ringing outside. It still didn't make the young Paladin relax. The boy was struggling to put on a brave face and it made Ten want to scare him a bit more.

"We haven't got all day, you know." Ten smiled saccharinely through the bars. "Well, _I_ don't have all day. I wouldn't want to be late to my own execution, would you?" 

The Paladin's mouth opened slightly. Maybe to curse, yell, or sneer. Scream.

"Don't speak to the prisoner."

Ten tilted his head towards the new deep voice. Now this, _this_ was a Paladin. He was tall and well-built judging from the way the straps of his arms strained around his chest and arms. His armor was well polished, gleaming silver untouched by the grime and filth of the prison. He stood head and shoulders over Ten, and this Paladin's shoulder width was double that of Ten's. Everything about him was intimating until Ten looked into his face. He was young too, not much younger than Ten himself, boyish-looking, with thick lashes framing round, almost innocent-looking eyes. He was handsome, in a fairytale way. Plump lips, clean-shaven, and if he smiled, Ten figured he could steal a heart or two. His hair was short and neatly styled, a characteristic Ten had recognized in all Paladins. That, and that they all died young.

The younger Paladin left, dismissed by the elder one who he passed the keys onto. Ten watched as the Paladin opened the cell and beckoned him to come out.

"Where am I going?"

The Paladin didn't answer, only grabbing Ten by his arm and forcing him out. Ten glanced as they walked past the other cells. There were plenty of others. Murderers, thieves, and outlaws. They all shrank back from the bars of their cells and it was not the Paladin they were afraid of. It was Ten.

Ten had made a name for himself speaking out against the Celestial of Glasift. The Celestial was a fake, a twisted abomination of what the gods had once been. It is the church's best kept secret, what humanity had done to the gods. One thousand years ago, mankind waged war against the all-powerful gods.

And the gods _lost_.

Ten's lip curled when he saw the mess hall. It was empty save for a single long table with a sorry excuse of a coffin on top of it. The coffin was made with crude wood. It was rotting in some places, all held together by the rusted nails that jutted out through the wood surface like thorns on a rose.

Its surface was covered by an elegant black satin table cloth with white lace at the edges. On the coffin were platters of fruit, as colorful as a stained glass window. Ripe apples, strawberries, and peaches sat beside fat grapes, dates, peeled oranges, pomegranates, figs, berries, and plums. Ten could feel his mouth watering at the sight of the roasted lamb and goose, the freshly cooked bread rolls, meat pies, and the smell of the soup. Regal bottles of wine and ale stood at attention on both sides of the coffin, some of them had them had been pored into elegant glasses, that looked as though they had been carved from crystal. Ten licked the inside of his cheek as his stomach growled, staring wistfully at the feast before him.

Sitting at the head of the table was a very fat man. He had too many chins, and Ten found it was a miracle the man had managed to button his collar. The man was balding, and wisps of grey hair stuck to his head, as though pasted on with glue by a child's hand. He was dressed in long plain grey robes and a set of gold rings adorned his fingers which looked like sausages had been forced through the jewelry. His face was red, clearly from the trip up the stairs to this mess hall. He had small beady eyes, like that of a tiny dog, a bulbous nose, and his lips despite being thin protruded outward due to the chubbiness of his cheeks. The man's eyes bored into Ten's and Ten looked away, not because he was scared, but because he was disgusted.

A _Sin Eater_.

And that meant that this food was not for him. Ten could only scoff at the sight of the Sin Eater. The Paladin let go of Ten's arm, unlocked the cuffs around his wrists, and gestured towards the table. Ten made himself as comfortable as he could on the wooden bench, keeping his eyes on the Paladin.

Sin Eaters were responsible for Eating the sins of the dead, or in this case, the would-be dead, so that they could pass on in peace to their new life. If a Sin Eater did not eat all the food, the soul of the deceased would be cursed to roam the earth, unable to find peace. Because Sin Eaters Ate the sins of others, they were outcasts, unclean due to their occupation, yet well respected and revered for their sacrifice. It took a great deal of selflessness to allow one's self to be used as a vessel to contain sin. It made Ten want to laugh, the foolish idea of selflessness. This fat man was no Sin Eater. Ten had met a Sin Eater before, they didn't eat lavishly like this. No, a true Sin Eater did not need physical manifestations to devour sins.

The shabby coffin was where the remains of Ten's body would be placed after the Burning. The food on the coffin represented all the sins Ten had or possibly had committed in his life. The food was a physical manifestation of Ten's sins... how _delicious_.

"Brother Ermingild." The Paladin bowed. "I've brought Prisoner 1010." 

"Thank you, Ser Lucas." Brother Ermingild smiled, bowing his head slightly, which made it look like his face was sinking into his many chins.

Ten let his eyes slide towards the Brother.

"Prisoner 1010, you have the gracious option of having your sins Eaten by Brother Ermingild, do you accept?" 

Ten's eyes flicked back to the Paladin, and Lucas's eyes bored back into his.

"I do not. Not from you anyway. You're a cheap imitation of a true Sin Eater. Look at you, fat on jewels and food. Just how many poor families do you turn away simply because they cannot feed you like this? You disgust me. Fooling the masses with your cheap attempts at playing gods. Tell me, do you really think you're Eating people's sins? Do you think you are saving them? You and your disgusting Brothers brought this on all our heads. The gods you buried are waking. What will you do when they come back, I wonder?" 

Ten tugged at the shadows, beckoning them quietly from where they rested under the tables, benches, in corners, behind the Sin Eater and the Paladin. They curled around him, a greater comfort than the sorry excuse of a Sin Eater. The room became darker and darker as shadows slid down windows, snuffed out candles, and grew in number.

In an instant, Blessed steel was resting against his throat. His shadows hissed in agony at the touch of the blade, quickly retreating as Ten chuckled at the look on Lucas's face. The Paladin was breathing hard, pupils dilated as adrenaline pumped through him, but his sword was steady, unmoving from where it kissed Ten's skin.

"Oh, don't be so scared, little soldier, I wasn't going to hurt you." 

"You dare attack a Sin Eater!" 

"He eats more food than sins, you and I both know that." Ten risked a glance at the trembling Brother, who's grip on his chair was knuckle white. The sword was still under Ten's chin, cold yet burning.

"You may leave Brother Ermingild," Lucas nodded at the Sin Eater as he sheathed his sword. "I sincerely apologize for what has happened here. I should have been more watchful." 

"It is not your fault, my boy. Evil always strikes at unknown times." 

"And it wears many faces." Ten muttered to himself.

The Brother rose rather quickly for such a fat man. He shuffled, his steps heavy as he gave Ten a wide berth. Just as the reached the door of the mess hall, he turned around and pressed two fingers to his forehead, lips, then heart.

"May the Celestial forgive you."

Ten scoffed at the Sin Eater's words for him.

"I'd rather burn in Silver fire."

"So be it." Lucas hissed.

Lucas grabbed a plate from the coffin's surface, angry tossing food onto the plate before slamming it down in front of Ten.

"Eat."

"Is it poisoned?" Ten asked, then smiled at the indignant look on the Paladin's face.

"No."

"Ah, I'm sorry if that sounded rude. I just had to be sure." 

Ten made himself as comfortable as he could on the wooden bench and didn't flinch when the Paladin sat across from him. Lucas watched Ten eat in silence, and gave the prisoner the occasional frown when Ten offered him some of his food. Once he had eaten his fill, greedily licking the remains of soup from the spoon, Lucas took Ten back to his cell to await his execution.

"Your name is Lucas, yes?"

The Paladin stopped, his eyes narrowing at Ten through the bars.

"It is."

"Your name, it is a pretty one. It means bright, shining." 

"What is it to you?" Lucas frowned.

He looked confused. It was the first time the Paladin had shown any other emotion other than indifference or disgust.

Ten smiled slightly and sat in his dark corner again.

"I suppose you have lived up to your name. You shine, in silver none the less." 

"And what about you? Have you lived up to yours, _Ten_?"

The smile fell from Ten's lips, and if it could make a sound, it would have been like glass shattering. Lucas stood silently, awaiting the answer of the prisoner.

"My dear Paladin, that we have yet to see." Ten replied. This was the first time he had heard any of the Paladins call him by his name. Ten didn't know if it was out of kindness or disrespect.

"You will die today."

"Who says death is the end?"

"You will die by Silver fire, your soul will burn, there will be nothing left of you." 

"Then why did you bring me a Sin Eater?" 

"I did not. His holiness, the Celestial requested you have one." 

"The Celestial? What for?"

"He believes everyone deserves to be shown mercy. Truly, he is a kind god." 

"I do not want false kindness from a false god." Ten sneered.

"Do not worry, you will receive none. That is the fate you brought upon yourself." 

Ten smiled.

"Good, I would have it no other way." 

At that, Lucas left, a frown troubling his handsome features.

Ten sighed, resting his back again the cruel damp stone and let his shadows come to him again. This time, the shadows were singing. They sang in whispers and hushed voices, sweetly lulling Ten to sleep.

_"Whither shall I follow, follow, follow,  
whither shall I follow, follow thee._

_To the greenwood, to the greenwood,  
to the greenwood, greenwood tree."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I'm finally back with another chapter. (´ ∀ ` *)
> 
> I hope you are all staying safe and healthy, please make sure to rest and take care of yourself in these stressful times.
> 
> It took way longer than I anticipated but after a while, I realized why. Naturally, as you practice anything, you get better and that is the case with my writing (I hope). I've begun to scrutinize my writing a bit more and I have been working on my technique and delivery... hopefully it shows. I definitely had fun writing this chapter and I want to thank you all for the patience you have shown me. I'm getting better at writing and that means I'll probably take more time to post things.
> 
> I also wanted to elaborate on some other things in this story. I got a lot of inspiration for this fic from reading Suffer, and Be Glad by @Staycoolstaykind on Ao3. They're writing is pretty amazing and I highly recommend it. (o´▽`o)
> 
> There are many religious references (mainly Catholic), so in case you are sensitive to such things, I just want to give you a little warning. There will also be frequent references to mythologies of all sorts (mainly Greek and Egyptian), but don't worry, I will do my best to always let you know in these notes. (My notes are low-key long but they are meant to help clarify some things. If the notes aren't clear, feel free to let me know in the comments. I can get lost in my own head and work at times, so let me know if anything is confusing.) (´･ᴗ･ ` )
> 
> The little song at the beginning is Come Follow. It was a song I used to sing in children's choir and I thought it could easily sound eerie, but don't worry, it has meaning, and so does the girl in the red dress. Do you know what she is? What did you think of Donghyuck and Ten? Let me know in the comments.
> 
> As for this chapter, what did you think of it? I'm just getting started so, there may be edits to the chapter (I will also let you know if that happens). Please let me know if I made any errors, I will do my best to fix them. („• ֊ •„)
> 
> A big thank you to @Charcolate and @Elseworlder for listening to my chaotic ramblings, and for helping me flesh out everything you two are very kind and I am thankful. (シ_ _)シ
> 
> My social media is [@grreyscale_](https://www.instagram.com/grreyscale_/) on Instagram and [@grreyscale](https://twitter.com/grreyscale) on Twitter. I am always up for a chat so feel free to say hi if you want to, I don't bite!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading In A Garden of Bones! (I shortened the acronym but it's still too long)
> 
> Catch you later! Bye! ~ヾ(*'▽'*)


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